Liberate Me
by Big J Bonk
Summary: In a world that desires them but doesn't want them, they will always find a way. Rated M for suicide.
1. Of Little Value

**This story will be from the perspective of a different Elsen for each chapter. The rating is because of certain content in here that I'm personally afraid might hit home for too many people. But it might not. I don't know, hence the warning.**

 **Honestly, I don't even know why I wrote this. Maybe because I was bored, and there aren't enough Elsen-centric fics out there. Yeah, that's probably it.**

* * *

One Elsen worked at the refinery.

The refinery is where the raw ashes are sent in order to be cleaned. One has to meticulously sift through the ashes by hand and pick out the crystallized granules of sugar buried within. It's hardly an efficient process, but the problem is easily solved with a hundred or more low-wage workers.

One Elsen, nameless like the rest but who we will refer to as Three, was one of these low-wage workers. Three was good at his job, but not exceptionally so. No one in this place was. If they were, surely they wouldn't be stuck here. Three was, however, a little different from the rest. He felt that he deserved more.

It wasn't that Three was greedy or selfish. He didn't think of himself as better than the rest. But he'd begun to notice the trembling in his hands characteristic of sugar deprivation. Soon, he knew, would come the irritation, the itching, the difficult, painful breaths. Then, inevitably, would come the Burning. He was seeing these signs in the others as well. Two of them had already Burned this week. Something needed to be done.

The following week, Three sought out an audience with the Zone's Guardian. He nervously trudged along the winding path leading to his office, anxiously rubbing his arms. He wished that he had gotten more sleep the night before; his feet felt like boulders, and his eyelids weighed even more.

Soon, he found himself at the Guardian's office door. Steeling his nerves, taking in as deep a breath as he possibly could, Three opened the door.

Few Elsen had ever been in Enoch's presence, and Three paled at the sheer ginormity of the man at the desk. But his attention was quickly drawn by what sat on the desk. Enoch had been enjoying a pie, using a fork that was far too small for his meaty hand. Flicking his gaze over to the staring Elsen, he disinterestedly flung the tip of his fork at the Elsen, sending a glob of blueberry jam flying to the floor. He found some sick amusement in watching the Elsen scramble for the small piece like some starved animal. It wasn't until he laughed that Three quickly stood up, anxiously licking his fingers.

As soon as he calmed down, Enoch pushed his piece off to the side, leaning over the desk and steepling his fingers. "There is a reason you came here, boy. What is it?"

"Oh, uhhh..." Three stuttered, "Ummm... I, a-as well as the others in the refinery, erm, have been suffering from sugar deprivation. I-If you'd be so gracious, I request, on their behalf, a larger portion of dessert after lunch."

Enoch stared at Three for a long moment before leaning back in his chair, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips. "We hardly have enough sugar as it is, lad. We can't afford to give out more just because one person asks."

"B-But sir," Three spoke up. "People at the refinery are Burning. If we don't get more sugar quickly-"

Enoch slammed a large palm down on the desk. "Look here, boy. I didn't let you into my office so that you could tell me who I can or can't give my sugar to. A few Elsen Burning here and there, it happens. And so what? I just hire more. Do you understand me?" The Guardian leaned so far over his desk that the quivering Elsen could count the beads of sweat dotting his brow. "You're. Expendable. So I'd better not hear any more complaints like this, or it'll be _you_ I'm replacing. Do I make myself clear?"

Three stared at Enoch's face for a long time. The quivering stopped. Slowly, face expressionless, he looked down to his feet and replied, "...Yes, sir."

The Guardian leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "Good. Now get back to work before I decide against letting this slide." Nodding slowly, Three turned and walked out the door, wondering why that one word bothered him so much.

 _Expendable_.

(...)

Three did not go back to work that day. Instead, he rode the monorail to Area 3. As he sat on one of the cracking seats, that word kept playing over and over in his mind. _Expendable. Expendable._ Three had always thought of himself as a unique individual, his own person. It was crushing to hear his Guardian essentially tell him that he was just another number to be replaced. He knew that he was right, but it hurt all the same.

 _Expendable_.

When the monorail eased into the stop, Three exited with slow, deliberate steps. When the ominous smoke stacks in the distance came into view, he stopped. But he was on a mission, and he was going to see it through. So he pressed on.

Around the side of the building, he knew, was a large, metal door, not in view of the public. This meant it was relatively unprotected, so Three found that it was unlocked, so he let himself inside. Immediately he was hit with the intense heat and the stench of sugar and death that stole his breath, sending him into a hoarse coughing fit. There was one Elsen- one _living_ Elsen- mindlessly shoveling bodies into the furnace, silent save for his rattling breath.

As soon as his breathing became somewhat regular, Three cautiously made his way across the room, being careful not to step anywhere near the piles of bodies. The other Elsen finally noticed him and turned his head, staring with large, dead eyes, eyes nearly identical to his own. Swallowing his discomfort, Three walked to the edge of the furnace, right next to the other Elsen.

 _I'm expendable. I can be replaced. They need sugar. I can help._

Three turned his head to face the other Elsen, deprived just like him, and said, "You can join me if you want..." Then, he jumped.

The fall wasn't far, but the pain was excruciating. The fire lapped at his arms, his legs, burning his clothes to papery ash, blistering and charring the skin underneath. He tried to scream, but the flames infiltrated his lungs, sending white-hot pain throughout his body. Then suddenly, he felt nothing. He couldn't feel the pain, the fire lapping at his darkened flesh, not even a tingle at the tips of his fingers. Three closed his eyes and smiled, and his body soon gave out, falling to pieces, becoming a part of the ashes that littered the bottom of the pit.

The remaining Elsen watched the entire scene unfold, quietly witnessing the degradation of Three's body. But he soon lost interest, and continued shoveling the corpses into the pit.

And the moment was forgotten.

* * *

 **The next chapter will be better, I think, with a little bit more actual _story_ to go with it. It will be done quickly, if not right after I post this.**

 **Edit: Right after it is, then.**


	2. Acting Out

**This one's a bit more Elsen-realistic, as far as behavior goes. At least, I hope so.**

* * *

One Elsen was a resident of Bismark.

This Elsen, who we will call Two, spent nearly all of his time in the residential area with a dozen or so other Elsen. These were all Elsen without jobs, who had no place to were fairly content with spending their days visiting the amusement park, their nights gazing at the sky, wondering if they were ever going to amount to anything. But not Two.

Two was rather ambitious for an Elsen. He didn't just wonder. He _wanted._ He _wanted_ to amount to something. But in Bismark, no one ever amounted to anything. So, he wandered around the Zone to see what he could find.

The Zone was very clean, so there was no garbage for Two to pick up. He had nothing to fend off the Specters with, so that wasn't an option, either (he preferred to keep as much space between him and them as possible anyway). Even the amusement park wasn't busy enough to require assistance.

After an hour or so of searching, Two had nearly given up hope. But, on the trudge back to the residential area, as he walked past the Library, he noticed a hastily-made sign that read, "NOW HIRING." The N in 'HIRING' was backwards. This went unnoticed by the ecstatic Two, who immediately went inside.

Two was hired instantly, not because of some innate skill that proved to be useful in a library setting, but because the current employees were just glad that someone was actually willing to take the job. Two didn't mind. Frankly, he was just happy to get lucky enough to get the job. Him, the only working man in Bismark.

Now responsible with tending to the books, Two was very satisfied with his new job. The Library was hardly ever busy, so he had a lot of time to read the many books on the real shelves. Any shelf not entirely made of plastic was chock-full of books from the Time Before, and every single one proved to be an interesting read. Especially the one with the oxygen, whatever that was.

After a month had gone by, something began to seem off for Two, like something wasn't as it should be. But he couldn't figure out what it was. After two months, the anxiety kept him on the brink of Burning. When the third month had passed, h finally figured out what it was.

He wasn't getting paid.

Admittedly annoyed with this fact, Two went down the stairs to talk to the Elsen at the counter. "I've come to talk about... the matter of my pay..." he said.

The Elsen didn't meet Two's eyes. "Oh, um... The Guardian, Japhet... he's the one who pays us..."

"Then... why am I not getting paid...?"

The Elsen squirmed under Two's gaze. "Th-That's because, um... the Guardian has been missing... for a few years now, so... he hasn't... been able to pay us..." He looked up at Two. "But... But that's okay. We'll... keep the Library clean and in working order... That way, when he comes back, h-he can pay us... right?"

Two considered this for a long time, so long that the other Elsen began to wheeze in the uncomfortable silence. But finally, Two answered. "Yes... He can pay us when he comes back..." Without another word, he retreated for the stairs.

There had been many times in Two's life where he had been annoyed. There were even a few occasions where he had been frustrated. Never in his life had he ever been angry. It wasn't that he wasn't getting paid that irked him. It was the idea behind it. If you weren't getting paid at your job, then was it really a job?

Unsure of how to handle this new kind of stress, Two tried to distract himself by reading a book. But he was unable to focus on the words. With a frustrated growl, he tore a page out of the book and tossed it to the ground. It did him little good. But it did give him an idea. If he continued to damage the books, Japhet would eventually come to stop him. Then he could get paid.

After that, Two began to systematically tear the pages out of almost every book in the Library. Soon the floor was littered with loose pages. And Two waited. And waited. And waited. Japhet never came.

All but infuriated, Two shoved one of the shelves to the ground, sending every book tumbling to the floor. The next was solid plastic, hitting the ground with a loud, hollow _thunk_. He continued to topple shelves until the Elsen from the counter ran up the stairs to discover the cause of the commotion.

"P-P-Please," he said in a rush, "um...hhh... y-you can't destroy th-the Library... Y-You have to...hhh... clean it up now..."

But Two didn't pay his words any mind. The other Elsen's appearance had sparked a new idea, one that was bound to work better than the last one. Determined to carry it out, Two shouldered his way past the flustered Elsen and out of the Library.

Two didn't stop until he'd found his way to the Amusement Park. Timid but happy Elsen milled about, anxious to try out the many rides the park offered. But Two wasn't here to have fun.

From the entrance, he turned right and followed the path to the pedalo ride. The line was fairly short. Sparing hardly a glance for the ride attendant, he got on the ride and pedaled.

Once the motors had caught, Two let them steer the pedalo. However, the gentle bobbing of the boat did nothing to calm his nerves, and his breaths came out as sharp, dark fumes. But he hadn't come this far to just give up. He had to execute his plan _now_.

He jumped into the plastic.

Two took a moment to right himself and get comfortable floating in the murky white liquid. He flailed his arms a little for show. If he acted like he was in trouble, he reasoned, Japhet would have to come to save him. A Guardian cared about his citizens, even more so than his libraries. It was only natural that he would come to help.

So he waited. Even as he was gently carried along, he waited. Even as his lungs screamed at him, he waited. Even as tiny dots of light started creeping along the edges of his vision he waited. And then it hit him-Japhet wasn't coming.

Frantically, Two reached his arms out of the plastic, trying to swim to the surface. He broke it only for a moment, as the current generated by the motors pulled him back under. He tried to hold onto a wall, a platform, _anything_ , but there was nothing within reach. Another attempt at the surface had him turning and flailing, suddenly unable to tell up from down. He tried to call for help, but all that escaped him was a black cloud that darkened the plastic around him. Soon, his limbs grew weak, and his eyelids became heavy. Two allowed himself to rest, and the suffocating feeling ebbed away.

There, at the end of the ride, his body finally floated to the surface.

* * *

 **...Yeah. I still don't know why I'm even typing this. But the last chapter will be up soon, and it will be a little longer than these two.**


	3. Too Much

**For whatever reason, this story isn't showing up in the OFF archive for me. Is anyone else having this issue?** **Aside from that, this chapter was a pain to write. I only hope you guys like it more than I did.**

 **Writing this made me think of a certain episode of Paranoia Agent. If you've seen it, you'll probably know the one. I later realized that there's actually a reference to another episode, too. See if you can spot both of them.**

 **Also, this chapter has a little language in it. It's Zone 1, after all.**

* * *

One Elsen worked at the Post Office.

Life in Shachihata was a busy one. Almost every floor of the 100,000-story Post Office was teeming with busy Elsen, shipping smoke, sorting papers, and the like. Every floor provided its occupants with a different job. A stamp, a few numbers to memorize. The system worked flawlessly. Except that there weren't enough employees to properly maintain it.

Several floors of the Post Office were completely empty, yet they somehow always managed to provide several stacks of paperwork that needed to be done. However, every Elsen had a job, whether it be bottling the meat in Alma or cutting open the cows in Pentel. The only thing to be done was to make work at the Post Office a lot harder for a select group of Elsen.

One of these Elsen is the Elsen that will be known to us as One. One used to work in the back corner of the first floor, just to the right of the elevator. After he'd stamped enough papers without having a complete mental breakdown, Dedan had decided to "promote" him to what pretty much amounted to a glorified errand boy.

At first it wasn't so bad; now he no longer had to stamp papers with the same five-digit numbers over and over all day. But as soon as he sat down in front of the empty desks and saw all of the stacks of paper around him, he realized it was going to be much, much harder. Because now, he had to use a different number for every paper in the room, then _fill out_ every last document. Then, when he was done, he would go to his sleeping quarters and hope it was still early enough to be worth going to sleep.

The job quickly began to wear on One's nerves, forcing him into a constant state of exhausted jumpiness so extreme that, on one occasion, the sound of a paperweight falling nearly caused him to Burn on the spot. The fact that there were others that shared his duties was little comfort; the sheer number of floors meant that there was little chance of anyone working in the same room as him. The longer One held this job, the more edgy he became. Soon, it became too much, and he decided to do something that, under any other circumstances, would have been unthinkable.

He was going to ask for a demotion.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait very long, for a few days later, Dedan arrived in Damien for his monthly inspection. One came to work later than usual that day, and waited by the entrance for the Guardian to make his rounds.

It took about twenty minutes for Dedan to reach Shachihata, and upon noticing the single Elsen shuffling his feet by the Post Office, he looked none too pleased. Gnashing his teeth ever so slightly, he stormed up to the Elsen, looking as menacing as possible. "And what the hell do you think you're doing, standing out here? Didn't you know that today is Inspection Day?"

"Um, yes, o-of course," One stammered, choosing that moment to remember his boss's short temper. "I-It's just that I, uh, w-wanted to make a request..."

"Oh, is that so?" Dedan asked with mock interest. "Well, out with it then. I don't have all day to stand around, you know."

"Uh, yes, r-right away, sir," stuttered One. "Er, I was hoping I could... file... for demotion..."

The Guardian worked his jaw in silence for a moment before speaking. When he did, his voice was dangerously low. "If I demote you, then someone else would have to lose their job, or someone less competent than you would end up with yours. Clearly neither of those are good options. So you can stay right the hell where you are."

"B-But it's much too difficult for someone like me..." One whined. He instantly knew that that had been exactly the wrong thing to say.

Dedan angrily clacked his teeth together. "Too difficult?! _TOO DIFFICULT?!_ " He all but tore his coat open, the sign that a line had been crossed, and someone was getting hell for it. "What gives you the fucking right to ask for another job?! If you want a difficult job, I'll goddamn give you a difficult fucking job!"

Dedan snatched at One's wrist, earning him a startled cry, and forcefully yanked him into the Post Office. Instantly every Elsen in the room stopped working to stare at the commotion caused by the door slamming into the wall. The Guardian ignored them, opting to furiously gnash his teeth as he dragged the now-quiet Elsen towards the elevator.

But One wasn't able to ignore them. In his sleep-deprived mind, he could picture them all whispering about him. _Just look at him; he's liable to Burn right now, then we're_ all _doomed... He can't even do his job. What kind of Elsen can't do his job?_

One never did find out what difficult job Dedan intended to show him, because he yanked his wrist out of his grasp with surprising force and turned on his heel, running out of the Post Office and onto the tracks.

He didn't stop running until the tall building was nearly out of sight. Only then did he finally let himself collapse, trying to get his breathing closer to a wheeze and farther from something resembling a choking cow.

 _It's too much,_ he thought. _It's all too much._

When he finally managed to get his breathing somewhat back to normal, One tried to figure out where he'd ended up. Seeing smoke clouds billowing up in the distance back the way he came meant that he'd run in the opposite direction of Damien, meaning he'd run almost all the way to Alma. The realization brought to his mind the fact that Dedan would be heading there shortly. He also knew that he'd be getting there by tram.

So he stayed where he was, laying across the track.

One felt the vibrations before he saw the tram, but it wasn't long before it came barreling down the track. The sight of it nearly jolted One into scrambling off of the track to safety, but he held his ground, even when it was close enough to be able to see into the window.

But then the tram started to slow down, the wheels screeching and sending sparks flying as it tried to grind to a halt. And grind to a halt it did, just feet short of the Elsen laying before it. Then came a tinny voice through its worn-out speaker.

"Obstruction on the tracks. Please remove obstruction before proceeding."

Of course, One thought as he started to weep. _Of course it couldn't be that easy._

But then a large boot emerged from the tram, and One scrambled to his feet and ran past before the rest of the body could follow.

(...)

When One finally stopped to catch his breath, he realized he'd run all the way back to Shachihata. Evidently this was one problem he couldn't run away from. He tilted his head to look up, up, up at the Post Office.

 _But maybe I could jump from it._

Getting to the top floor meant actually going back inside, but this time no Elsen spared him a glance, so engrossed were they in their work. One was able to reach the elevator without incident.

The long ride up gave One a lot of time to think, and the more he did, the more he began to doubt that this was the right thing to do. He wondered if he could just go back to work and never complain about it again. But then he remembered how angry Dedan was with him. He couldn't go back to his old job, and he certainly couldn't return to his new one. What he was doing was the only thing he _could_ do. So when the elevator _dinged_ and opened up to the roof, he bravely stepped outside instead of pushing the "1" like he wanted to.

One took long strides to the edge of the building. However, a downwards glance sent a wave of vertigo through him, and the wind threatened to knock him over. He hadn't realized how high up he was. It was too much, he couldn't do it.

But he _had_ to. There was nowhere for him to go. This was the only option he had left.

Before he could reconsider, he jumped.

As soon as One's feet were off the roof, he felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach, and the wind made his eyes sting. He started to pick up speed, and his limbs flailed, sending him into an uncontrollable spin. He couldn't right himself, and he started to panic. But he couldn't find it in himself to breathe, and he let out a silent scream. Time seemed to be crawling by, seconds feeling like hours, minutes like entire days. He began to feel numb to the terror. He could breathe again. In the last few moments of the fall, he thought, _Maybe I'll get to stamp papers in the afterlife._

He never realized he'd hit the ground. Nothing was left of him besides a few terrified Elsen and the Guardian's irritation.

* * *

 **So, that's it, I guess. I don't condone suicide, so obviously don't try any of this at home. Now to go experiment with writing a TF2 fic. :p**


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